Archive of Our Own ^beta

If you, for whatever reason, asked Chan what he thinks of his sexual prowess, he would━ without a lack of confidence━ call himself an experienced sexual partner. He’s a dancer, it’s in his nature to be miraculously apt at all things physical, so stating he’s pretty good in bed would, realistically, be a horrible understatement. And truly, he says this with as much humility as he can muster up. 

Which, if you consult his friends, you’d find out is not much, but it’s the thought that counts.

Onto more relevant things. What comes with sleeping around quite often, is the carefully honed ability to tell who will be good in bed and who won’t. Who Chan should bother with, and who he should ignore to the best of his abilities. It’s the small tells that mean the most. Confidence, hand placement, eye contact. 

It’s a tricky practice, being able to predict someone’s dick game, but Chan would say he’s got it down to a T. He’s got quite the record too, practically every lay he’s had in the past year has been nothing short of fantastic. Whether with people he’s known for a bit, or with people he’s just met, his good-dick-sensor never failed.

That is, until today. More specifically, an hour ago. 

Chan was at a bar getting drinks with Seulgi and Soonyoung, laughing along to the many stories they were animatedly retelling from the dance camp they just attended for professional choreographers. Chan was invited too, but due to scheduling conflicts, he couldn’t go, so he’s been looking forward to tonight, living through them vicariously as they talked.

All of a sudden, a large, calloused hand landed on his shoulder, forcing him to whip his head around in reaction to the brazen physical contact. Even Seulgi and Soonyoung went slack jawed, their words trailing off into silence.

His gaze landed on a handsome, tall man who introduced himself charmingly with a name Chan couldn’t bother to memorize, a pick-up line he didn’t even trouble himself to hear as he immediately turned on his sensor and started analyzing the intriguing stranger standing in front of him. Nice eyes, pretty smile, perfect posture. 

Eloquent, arrogant— in a good way. After he let the guy buy him a drink at the bar, additional signs— with the ones Chan already inspected to hell and back— pointed to what could be the best dick in his life. He even had the fleeting sense that this stranger could come close to dethroning thee Choi Seungcheol, the best lay Chan ever had the pleasure to experience. 

Not to sidetrack, but Chan curses the day that Yoon Jeonghan ensnared him. It’s ridiculous, how he has him wrapped around his finger. Chan literally had dibs. The worst part of it all is, he can’t even bring himself to be entirely mad. Seungcheol looks so happy, he can only share the sentiment. Albeit, reluctantly.

After a bit more chatter, Chan cut the pretenses and point blank told the guy to take him home. He really doesn’t care much for investment policies or stock prices, or whatever the fuck kind of economic terminology he was trying to explain to Chan. 

Does Chan look like he cares for numbers? He doesn’t even bother with his own body count. 

They got to the guy’s house pretty quickly, a nice penthouse with a bed large enough to house all of Chan’s fantasies. The foreplay was nice and cute, thoughtful in a way Chan appreciated, but he wanted to cut to the chase. He’s been horribly pent up these past few weeks, since he was mostly busy with the choreography he’s been painstakingly working on for one of his finals, and desperately wanted to speed things up. 

Told him to hurry up with the prep, promised he could take it, and sank into the bed anticipating the bliss he was about to find himself in. What he found himself in instead, is hard to describe. 

If a sex position could be purgatory, Chan was in hell. God decided he doesn’t even get to roam, he has to go down immediately. No questions asked, no chance given for Chan to prove himself.

This guy was giving him the weakest dick he’s had since he was like, eighteen and wanted to lose his virginity just to get it over with. It was reprehensible. Usually, Chan likes it from the side, but the way this guy contorted his body was so insanely ineffective, it was actually kind of impressive. 

Chan didn’t even get to lament his sensor's failure, he immediately detached from the guy and said he has to leave, citing an emergency. He already forgot what he said specifically, only remembers frantically calling Seungkwan and asking if he can come to his place.

Of course, at first, Seungkwan was like, no, but when Chan explained what happened, he immediately told him he’s not home, but at Mingyu’s and Wonwoo’s place and that he’ll pay for his taxi fare there. 

However, Chan wasn't too hasty about feeling grateful for the service provided. Seungkwan didn’t offer up the money, or the company, out of the goodness of his heart, he did it because he’s annoying, and evil, and can’t wait to hear about how his good-dick-sensor failed after the years Chan spent waxing poetry about it.

He has to be careful and not laugh too much, though, since it’s Chan’s sensor that landed him Kim Mingyu in the first place. 

Which is how he finds himself on the ugly couch that graces Wonwoo’s and Mingyu’s living room, speaking to an audience of two equally nosy people who are unfortunately dating, attempting to recall the exact circumference of his unfortunate lay’s dick and the exact way he tried positioning it.

“— So, after that, he like,” Chan starts, trying to reenact the action with his hands, but falters once he realizes he can’t truly depict just how horrible the guy he just fucked was. He sighs, and drops his hands back down, plopping himself back down onto the couch ungracefully. 

He kicks his feet petulantly, frustrated as he slaps a hand over his face. “Ugh. I don’t know how to explain. He was just so fucking bad.”

Seungkwan and Mingyu nod along from where they’re sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, pensive as they try to imagine the scene Chan is setting up. Seungkwan seems to come up with an idea the second his face looks like it’s about to fall, a bright-eyed beam replacing traces of the forlorn expression. 

Seungkwan jumps up, and grabs the hand resting on Chan’s face, forcing him to lock eyes. He looks excited as he drags a confused Chan into a sitting position, and lets his hand go. 

He's bright eyed as he offers. “Show it on me!” 

“Oh!” Chan says gleefully, positively surprised by the proposition. “Good idea.”

They rearrange themselves so that Chan is on top of Seungkwan, who has his entire back on the couch, lying flat and eerily lifeless. Chan’s eyes zero in on how limp Seungkwan’s arms are, and subsequently narrow. He sits back on his haunches, putting his hands on his hips.

“Seungkwan. Why do you look like you’re dead?”

He blinks, unmoving. “Isn’t this what you’re like?”

“I’d like to think I don’t look like I died five days ago and they just found my body.”

Seungkwan finally looks at Chan, then, his lip curling in distaste. “Are you dissing my complexion?”

“Are you dissing my sex appeal?”

Mingyu groans, tapping his hands on the edge of the leather couch frantically. “Can you two please focus?” He interjects, whining and looking up at Chan from the floor. “I’m getting impatient. I want to see what the worst dick of your life looked like.”

“Fine.” Chan relents through gritted teeth, grabbing Seungkwan’s thighs and pulling him closer to his crotch in a show of strength. He rattles Seungkwan’s body as he does so, earning a dissatisfied grumble.

“Brute.” he spits, glaring at Chan.

“Oh shut up,” Chan says, rolling his eyes. “You’re dating Mingyu.” 

Infinitely pissed off by Mingyu’s silence, Seungkwan turns his head towards his boyfriend and demands, “Hello? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Mingyu startles the second Seungkwan’s gaze lands on him as he whips towards him in record speed, and shrugs once he gathers his bearings. “What is there to say? He’s right. You like it when I throw you around.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Seungkwan grumbles, shaking his head and sighing. “Fine. Just pretend to fuck me so we can be done with this.”

“Okay, so.” Chan starts, his words trailing off into silence as he looks around Seungkwan’s body, still holding onto his thighs and trying to remember the exact unfortunate position every limb was in. 

This is the sacred part of bad sexual experiences. The retelling. Inaccuracies must be kept to a minimum. 

He twists Seungkwan’s body to the side, moving left leg up, closer to his face, stopping only once Seungkwan groans to show just how uncomfortable the position is. Seungkwan takes pilates lessons, so he’s almost as flexible as Chan, which makes the maneuver relatively easy.

Then, Chan leans over him the exact way the guy did, and stills. “Okay. This is how he had me.” 

Seungkwan expels a breath of air, his voice warbly. “I think I’m going to die. I can like, feel the air leaving my lungs.”

Chan clicks his tongue. “Stop talking then.” Chan thinks it over in his head, but he can’t seem to figure out how to explain the downright ridiculous stroke pattern. 

Mingyu tilts his head, confused, ignoring that Chan is near suffocating his boyfriend. “That’s not that weird though?”

Chan shakes his head, leaning back from Seungkwan, enabling him to take a dramatically large gulp of air. “I’m not done.”

“Oh God,” Seungkwan says, panting for air. “I think you actually lost me for a second there.” He’s ignored, as Chan continues speaking and Mingyu’s attention is wholly on what he’s about to say. 

“After that, he like, thrusted down, instead of up.” Chan explains, getting up to try and repeat the motion, finding it impossible. “His dick kept slipping out. It was the fucking worst.” And it really was. 

The second he’d establish a rhythm that kind of made Chan feel good, he’d have to stop to put it back in, and come back with the worst stroke pattern ever. It’s safe to say Chan is even more pent up now, than he was before.

Seungkwan and Mingyu subsequently cringe, their faces contorting as they finally realize just how bad Chan had it. Seungkwan is the one who speaks, his face seemingly permanently contorted. “That had to have been so awkward.” 

“I wouldn't know," Chan says, through a sigh, "I bolted before any emotion could even develop.”

Mingyu shakes his head, disbelieving. “I’m stumped. How would moving like that even make sense?”

Chan groans, flopping back onto the couch exasperatedly. “Sometimes, I wish I was a virgin. You don’t know what’s good and what’s bad when you’ve never had sex.” 

He continues, grumbling, to no one in particular. “Fuck this stupid sensor.”

“Honestly yeah. I used to envy Wonwoo-hyung so much after having bad sex.” Mingyu says, nodding along. “He’d just laugh at me whenever I told him about it.” he mumbles, peeved as he recalls a conversation they had. “Like there’s something funny about having teeth marks on your dick.”

Seungkwan hums, agreeing woefully, ignorant to Chan's confusion. “He doesn’t even know how good he has it. It’s hell out here.” 

Chan raises his head to look at them, confused. “What? What do you mean?”

Mingyu blinks. “You know, when someone's sucking you off? And their teeth—”

Chan shakes his head, in a frenzy. “No. The first thing you said. About Wonwoo.”

They both look at Chan, equally confused. Seungkwan is the one who speaks, slowly, as if not to startle him. “Um. You know Wonwoo-hyung is a virgin, right?”

Chan finds himself sitting up way too quickly for it to be considered normal, or nonchalant. “What?” he repeats, suddenly feeling breathless, dizzy from how quickly he straightened up.

Mingyu replies, leaning back on his hands, stretching his feet out. “Yeah. How do you not know?” Chan flops back on the bed, gaze unfocused, the blood rushing to his head. He doesn’t bother to respond, his brain immediately going into overdrive.

There are three enigmas in Chan’s life. The first one, is how he managed to land a scholarship to South Korea’s most prestigious dance program at the ripe age of eighteen. Some say it’s talent, some say it’s luck, some say it’s both. Chan doesn’t know, but he’s grateful all the same.

The second one— one he can never admit to Seungkwan— is wondering what fates were at work when the two of them met. He thinks about it daily, how the universe shifted in Chan’s favor when he first stumbled upon Seungkwan, in the dark hallway of a frat party they both weren’t invited to. He used up all the luck in his life that day, he’s sure of it. 

The third— and final— enigma in Chan’s life, is Jeon Wonwoo.

He simply can’t seem to figure his elusive hyung out, no matter how hard he tries. Ever since they met, three years ago, everything Chan thought he knew for certain about Wonwoo’s personality ultimately turned out to be wrong. 

First, he thought Wonwoo was cold. His sharp eyes seemed like they were devoid of warmth, until Chan found out just how polite and sweet Wonwoo could be. How his eyes rounded with it tenderly, lips curling into a soft smile more often than not. 

Then, he thought Wonwoo was quiet, and liked to keep to himself. He was startled to realize it’s quite the opposite, when they found themselves alone, cleaning up after a party, and Wonwoo chatted his ear off for the four hours it took them to bring his apartment to a satisfactory state, hygiene wise. 

Which brings him to his last assumption, one backed by years and years of experience, deduced as unwaveringly true by a skillset Chan has already explained the potency of in great detail— Jeon Wonwoo is a fantastic fuck. 

It has kept him up before. Thinking about what Wonwoo would be like in bed. 

What he would sound like, how he’d behave. Chan had a six nerd streak just trying to get it out of his system. The urge would come back though, the simmering in his gut, whenever they brushed shoulders or touched fingertips. Not enough to engulf him in flames, but enough for the fantasies to live on.

But, no, Chan was wrong once again. Wonwoo is a virgin. It’s unexpected, sure, but Chan’s reaction is somehow even more surprising. He usually doesn’t really bother with inexperienced people, let alone get off on the thought of taking someone’s virginity. Always seemed like too much work. However, for some reason, his want is borderline visceral as he soaks in this newfound information and the implication of it. 

Knowledge of Wonwoo’s virginity doesn’t disappoint Chan, no, it brings him to a new assumption, a hypothesis that somehow seems even more exciting than the last one : Jeon Wonwoo could be a great fuck.

A well-mannered blank slate for Chan to work on. A tabula rasa of great potential. 

But Chan couldn’t. Shouldn’t. He sits up suddenly, shocked by his own debauched train of thought. Wonwoo probably has a reason as to why he’s still a virgin. Maybe he doesn’t care for sex, or wants to do it with someone special. Chan isn’t sure if he’s ever heard of Wonwoo actually pursuing any of the many admirers he has on the daily, so both reasons could be plausible. 

Why does any of it matter, though? Since when did Chan care so much about Wonwoo? What has gotten into him? 

He, apparently, greatly misjudged the extent of his interest. Sure, he finds Wonwoo attractive, in a loserish, nerd, kind of way, but he never thought an information which he would usually find discouraging, could be so enticing. 

Chan didn’t know he had a thing for virgins. Or, maybe, more frighteningly, he just has a thing for Wonwoo? 

“Chan. Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Chan hums, still lost in his thought. His gaze is locked on the wall across the couch he’s sitting on, as he continues, almost robotically. “Yes. I am fine.”

“Okay.” Seungkwan says, suspiciously. “You’re fine.” he parrots, nodding along, obviously not convinced. “Sure. Should I ask again in two minutes when you get that weird look off your face?”

“Yes, please.”

Seungkwan sighs, but doesn’t say anything in reply. He turns his head to a confused Mingyu, who perks up the second Seungkwan’s eyes land on him.

“Mingyu, peel me that tangerine.” He orders, pointing a finger towards the bowl on the coffee table that holds various autumnal fruit, a singular tangerine sitting ceremoniously in the middle of it. 

Chan guesses Mingyu stands up, but he doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t know anything. All he’s thinking about is Wonwoo, probably asleep, in his room, at the far end of the apartment hallway. Tucked beneath what’s probably fifteen duvets, because he gets cold easily. 

Chan runs warm. He could help him out. Slip in there, into the darkness of his room. Run a finger along his cheek to wake him up gently, crawl into the bed with the permission he’s sure he’d be able to coax out of him. Wonwoo’s skin, especially around his neck, would probably be tinged a lovely pink from the makeshift heat, marred by the blood flowing beneath it.

The skin around his collarbones seems sensitive enough, from what Chan has noticed. He could probably climb into his lap and bite a few marks into it, get Wonwoo squirming. Lick into each divot, bite at the tendons, graze the bone with the tips of his canines. He could probably—

“Hello. How are you now?” Seungkwan asks, again, cutting off Chan’s train of thought. “Two minutes passed.”

Chan gulps, feeling even dizzier than before. “Can you give me twenty?”

Seungkwan looks put out, wearing the same expression he usually does when he can’t quite figure out what’s going on. He hands over the remnants of his tangerine to Mingyu, and leans over to inspect Chan’s face from a closer proximity.

To put it simply, if Chan has a good-dick-sensor that’s been honed to perfection from the years and years of experience, Seungkwan can say the same about his Chan-sensor with the utmost confidence. The realization is immediate, his eyes wild, jaw widening a fraction. 

He scurries off the floor, and points a frenzied finger at Chan, sputtering all the while. “You—! You want to fuck Wonwoo-hyung!”

“He does?” Mingyu says, his eyes on Seungkwan, the tangerine peel lying uselessly on his palm along with the few pieces Seungkwan handed him. “You do?” he tries to reaffirm, gaze locking onto Chan, shocked by the accusation. 

“Maybe.”

Mingyu stands still for a few seconds, before he speaks. “Oh.” he says, suddenly deflating, like he just recalled something. “I never actually thought— Well, now I feel bad.” 

Seungkwan lowers his finger, the shock fading, tilting his head towards Mingyu, confused as he pouts. “What? Why?”

“Um.” Mingyu starts awkwardly, plopping a tangerine into his mouth. He chews on it for a bit to buy himself some time, and calls out after swallowing. “Chan. Hypothetically,”

Chan narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Yes?”

Feeling urged to continue, Mingyu speaks. “Would you be mad if I told you that I got Wonwoo drunk once and he kind of told me that he has a thing for you?” Chan blinks a few times, his lips forming around an o as he soaks up Mingyu’s words like a sponge.

Mingyu recoils at Chan’s expression, but wills himself to continue, muttering through gritted teeth. “And I, maybe, again— hypothetically— told him he doesn’t stand a chance and should just drop it?”

Chan can’t help but feel his eyes widen a fraction as Mingyu finishes, the realization finally hitting him. Wonwoo… likes him? 

There weren’t any signs pointing to that, though. Not any that he noticed. He’s not sure how to feel about it. Not the crush, in particular, but about his obliviousness. Since when does he not notice these things? The first part of his skillset━ the sensor━ is being able to pick up on the signs, the flirting. Was he truly completely ignorant to Wonwoo’s tells? Were there even any? 

No. It’s impossible. Chan would’ve noticed, he always does. This has to mean Wonwoo didn’t even try, even before Mingyu told him to drop it. Why? Did he think he didn’t stand a chance? Was he shy? Chan’s head is a mess of tangled wires, as he tries coming up with a plausible reason as to why Wonwoo never made an advance.

Suddenly, he’s hit with a wave of realization as he stills. Is it… because he’s a virgin? And Chan is,well, far from one?

Seungkwan gasps dramatically, the sound shrill enough to startle both Chan and Mingyu, as they rise to their feet to shush him and prevent him from waking Wonwoo up. 

He startles and apologizes, speaking in a frantic, hushed voice. “I’m sorry! That’s just so—!” he tries, motioning with his hands, before reaching out to shake Mingyu’s shoulders. “You idiot!”

“What? How am I an idiot?!” Mingyu replies, disgruntled, his quiet tone rising in volume the longer he speaks. “Don’t act like you knew Chan likes Wonwoo! Or thought he’d actually have a chance!”

Before Seungkwan can reply, Chan cuts in, finally having calmed himself down, and covers both of their mouths with his palms in an attempt to shut them up. Their gazes flit to him in an instant, confused, but they obey his nonverbal wish and stay quiet nonetheless.

Chan takes a deep breath. “It’s fine, hyung. I’ll live,” he starts, his hands unmoving, “And I don’t like Wonwoo. I like that he’s a virgin, which—” Chan stops himself, his gaze immediately locking onto Seungkwan’s bewildered expression, a reaction he anticipated.

“—yes, Seungkwan, I know. It’s crazy, and I’m crazy, and I should be institutionalized. Please don’t yell about it.” He can feel Seungkwan’s pout form beneath his palm, his eyes narrowing as Chan lowers his hand back down to give him an opportunity to reply.

“... I wasn’t going to say that you should be institutionalized.” he grumbles out, but the way his cheeks are tinged a light pink makes Chan believe he wanted to say something even worse. Chan sighs, and lowers his other hand from Mingyu’s sad looking face.

“Mingyu-hyung. It’s seriously fine.” he says, through a chuckle, and means it. It really is fine. He narrows his eyes playfully, and pushes Mingyu’s shoulder lightly. “Stop looking like a kicked puppy.”

Mingyu perks up, like he has an idea, and grabs both of Chan’s hands. “Let me make it up to you,” he says, shaking their intertwined fingers. “Pick any of my friends. I’ll serve them up on a silver platter.”

Chan actually stops and thinks about it. Mingyu does have some pretty good looking friends Chan hasn’t had the chance to get to know more… intimately. 

There’s Mingyu’s bunch of same-aged friends, who Chan would have to lie and say he hasn’t thought about. Eunwoo, who has a body that’s been carved out by the Gods themselves, a fine marble statue. Seokmin, who looks like he’d be a lot of fun, Minghao who looks like he’d be just the right amount of mean. 

However, the first name that comes up in his head is, shockingly— frustratingly— Wonwoo’s. So, Chan plasters on a cheeky smile he hopes is placating enough, and shakes his head. “That’s alright. I wouldn’t need your help for that, anyways.” He throws in a wink too, to really sell it.

The delighted chuckle he gets from both Mingyu and Seungkwan is proof enough that they bought it, furthered by the consensus the two of them come to, that yes, Chan really wouldn’t need his help for any of that. And he really wouldn’t, except that’s not entirely the reason why he’s declining. 

He keeps the real answer to himself. Since he already said he doesn’t care for Wonwoo in particular, he can’t just get on his knees and beg for it now. It’s beneath him. He’s also not keen on making them think whatever is going on inside of his head is anything deeper than fleeting, brief interest. 

All they’ll do is make a big deal out of it, wake Wonwoo up with their screaming and force Chan into a situation where he has to explain to Wonwoo why Seungkwan is screaming. Chan isn’t sure Wonwoo would be particularly fond of the answer, considering it entails fucking him into the couch. 

Or maybe he would. Maybe he’d like that, considering he did ask Mingyu if he had a chance. Chan wouldn’t know, but it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. It feels almost childish, how bad he wants this suddenly. Selfish too, in a way. Cognizant of Wonwoo’s feelings, to want to be the one to take this from him this badly. It’s burning Chan up from the inside, for a reason he doesn't understand.

He sits back on the couch, diverting his attention from the liquid fire in his veins, as he speaks to Mingyu and Seungkwan, hoping his facade hasn’t cracked in the meantime. “What you can do to make it up to me, hyung, is let me crash.” he says jokingly, smiling all the while. “I’m too tired to go home.”

Mingyu nods so hard Chan is scared he’ll give himself a concussion. “Yes, of course! I’ll bring you the blankets—”

Chan waves him off. “That’s fine.” he says, laying down on the bed fully and stretching out his limbs, groaning in satisfaction when his joints pop. He settles, letting his body sink into the leather, and speaks again. 

“It’s too hot in here, anyway. Why is your floor heating on? It’s like, twenty degrees outside.”

Mingyu sighs woefully, scooping a now-sleepy Seungkwan into his arms and leaning his head on his shoulder. “Wonwoo-hyung gets cold.”

He continues explaining, as he sways the two of them to the tune of a song Chan can’t hear. “One time, he made me turn the heating on in summer, because the night got chilly. It was twenty five degrees. I almost died.”

Chan tries not to let his thinking process revert to what it was before, Wonwoo’s cold body and Chan’s warm one, sensitive collarbones, skin begging to be bitten— Okay. Chan blinks, trying to will the imagery away. He might’ve failed already. 

He turns his head towards the backrest of the couch, fussing with the chipped leather. “Well, thankfully you’re alive.” he murmurs, and fakes a yawn, adjusting his body so that he’s looking at the two of them again. 

“I’m getting pretty sleepy now.” he says, laying flat on his back, crossing his legs. “Let’s talk more in the morning, yeah?”

Seungkwan nods, also yawning, probably triggered by Chan’s own, and waves him off as he pads to Mingyu’s room slowly, the two of them detaching briefly for the trek. 

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk,” he murmurs out, rubbing his eyes, obviously sleepy, “I’m sorry the sex was bad. I love you.”

“Mm. Love you too, Kwannie.” 

Mingyu bids him good night as well, and just like that, the door clicks shut and Chan is left alone with his thoughts. 

He should probably, actually sleep. That would be the smartest thing to do, considering he’s had a pretty physically—and emotionally— taxing day. 

He turns on his side to settle properly, a horribly stupid move, because the second his cheek lands directly on the cool couch cushion, his eyes lock onto Wonwoo’s closed door at the far end of the hallway and his fatigue leaves him like it was never even there in the first place. He exhales a shaky breath, and wills himself to close his eyes anyway. 

In the plethora of bad ideas, this one was the worst. 

He has somehow found himself back in Wonwoo’s room again, the interior of it bleeding into the darkness of his eyelids. The comfortable, decently sized bed Wonwoo lays on, the neat desk positioned right next to it, a wheeled chair at its front. A small, fluffed carpet at the entrance that Chan has nagged about in the past, the burgundy, wine red color of it too stark in comparison to the muted, purple tones that grace the walls. 

In the middle of the room, Wonwoo. With his sharp nose bridge, and equally sharp, cat-like eyes. Dark, soft slightly longer hair, brushing his nape tenderly, unruly fringe spilling over his glasses. A loose sleep shirt covering his broad shoulders, his filled out chest. Wet mouth slightly open, in an enticing o, tongue darting out to lick his lips alluringly when they get inevitably dry. 

Looking at Chan pleadingly, maybe even getting on his knees. Asking Chan to teach him, to guide him, to show him what feels good. Shy, but eager. Begging, until he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for anymore. And Chan would give it to him. Everything and anything he’d want, until the tears spill from his eyes and he can’t discern what’s real and what’s not. He’d fuck him until—

Chan sits up, like burned. He’s panting, a faint buzzing in his ears from all the blood rushing south, his dick filling out in his pants uncomfortably. He runs a hand through his hair, and drags it down his face, as he attempts to gather his bearings to the best of his abilities. 

He sets his palm back down into his lap, and crosses his legs, in an attempt to catch his breath. Okay. This is obviously going to become a problem. Why did Mingyu have to say anything? He should know Chan isn’t a normal person, who’s capable of processing information, well, normally. 

He’s had a hard time denying himself anything in his life, men included. Chan has always lived his life by the same motto━ if you want something, you should take it. No excuses, no faltering. It’s how he landed that scholarship, it’s how he co-owns one of Seoul’s top dancing studios at twenty three. 

It’s an even more difficult prospect to manage, when the wanting turns into needing. 

It’s a question of morality, if Chan is allowed to feel this way about Wonwoo, his virginity, and the inklings of need, possession that surround it. But then again, considering he did like Chan at some point, who’s to say Wonwoo would decline his advances? 

His eyes widen a fraction, his jaw slackening. Oh. That’s a nice point Chan just made, in his head. 

Technically, all he has to do to know is simply ask, no? He’s been running circles around in his mind, trying to justify this, when the solution is one door away from him. He could just pick a day, a situation, and proposition Wonwoo. Politely. Normally.

Maybe giving himself some time to think about how serious he is about this would be a good thing, considering Wonwoo is still a friend he cherishes. Chan nods to himself, half satisfied, half proud. Look at him, being an adult who makes mature, grown decisions. If only Seulgi and Soonyoung could see him now. 

“Chan-ah?”

Nevermind. This is probably the clearest sign Chan has ever gotten that he should abandon an idea and act on a whim. 

Chan whips his head around, and in a cruel twist of fate, is met with the same version of Wonwoo he’s just fantasized about in his head. Messy hair spilling over his crooked glasses, probably put on in haste. Lips in an o, the same oversized sleepshirt Chan thought up in his head falling over his broad shoulders, collarbones peeking through the unbuttoned collar. 

Chan lets his eyes roam his body shamelessly, before he blinks up demurely, locking his eyes onto Wonwoo’s sleep-laden ones. He feels like he wants to eat him alive, and makes no effort to hide it. Leans back on his hands brazenly, still cross-legged, pushing his chest up a fraction. 

“Wonwoo-hyung.” is Chan’s reply, his tone low. Simple, short. He lets his lips curl into a smile he knows is pretty. Wonwoo gulps audibly, and for now, that’s answer enough. “Were we too loud? Did we wake you?”

Wonwoo’s breathing pattern changes, his chest stuttering on an exhale as he eyes Chan's form. He tries to keep up pretenses though, and shakes his head with a smile so innately warm, it has Chan’s head lolling back slightly. “No. I got thirsty.”

“That’s so weird,” Chan says, through a lighthearted chuckle. “I was just thinking about how thirsty I am, too.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo exclaims worriedly, padding into the kitchen, “Do you want a glass of water too?” How oblivious. Cute. Chan was talking about something else, but they’ll get there soon enough. 

Chan lets his gaze trail after him as he walks over to the sink, turning on the couch slowly, like a predator, and pressing his chest on the backrest as he watches Wonwoo work behind the counter. Wonwoo lets the tap water run, waiting a bit for the chlorine to stop coloring the color white, and pours two glasses carefully. 

He talks, through the bubbling of the water. “When did you get here? I’m sorry hyung wasn’t up to greet you, I fell asleep pretty early.” Chan shakes his head, even though Wonwoo can’t see him. 

“Don’t worry about it.” he says, and means it. Wonwoo’s classes take up basically all of his day, it’s a wonder how he’s even standing sometimes. However, Chan spots an opportunity to start his game. 

So, he elaborates. “I called Seungkwan after a bad date to ask if I could come to his house,” he says through a sigh after waiting for Wonwoo to close the tap, making sure he’d hear him without obstructions. “But it turned out that he was here with Mingyu, so he told me to drop by.” 

Wonwoo comes closer as Chan speaks, two glasses of water in his hands. There’s a small misstep as he approaches the couch, a pause in his walk that lasts not more than a fraction of a second as Chan utters the word date. 

Wonwoo recovers quickly, and makes his way to the couch without further delay, but it’s useless. Chan has already caught it.

Chan lets his eyes soften once more, as he smiles at Wonwoo in thanks, and takes one of the glasses with both hands, his fingers lingering over the soft skin of Wonwoo’s knuckles for longer than necessary. 

Wonwoo smiles back, tighter than usual, and rounds the couch to sit next to Chan. He takes a sip of his water, and clears his throat as he sets it down on the coffee table. It’s all in his hands now. 

“So, a bad date?” Wonwoo asks, turning his eyes to look at him. Bingo. Chan smiles back, way too pleased, considering the unpleasant topic that’s being brought up. He couldn’t care less about it, anymore. 

He’s trying for worry, but what Chan hears is closer to relief. Maybe even excitement. It delights Chan in a way he hasn’t felt in a while. Wonwoo probably thinks he’s doing so well, too, hiding his little tells. And the truth is, before, he really was. Chan was none the wiser.

He still doesn’t understand how he was never able to see the, frankly, obvious signs. The stutter in Wonwoo’s breathing, the audible gulps, the tight smiles when Chan gets too close. His poor Wonwoo hyung. Probably dreamt of having Chan in his arms, like all the other ones do, his hopes shut down by Chan’s uncharacteristic obliviousness and Mingyu’s discouragement. 

But there’s no need for Wonwoo to worry his pretty head anymore. His secret is out, and Chan is going in for the kill.

“Yeah.” Chan sighs, playing up his disappointment. “It was pretty bad.”

“Was he rude?” Wonwoo asks, his eyebrows drawn together. Chan tries not to squeal, or pounce on him right then and there. He’s basically shaking apart with the excitement he feels as the conversation flows exactly in the direction he wants it to.

He tries to not let his displeased tone waver. “No, he was nice. Charming. Handsome, too.” Chan assures, turning his body to Wonwoo. His eyes zero in on Wonwoo’s pointedly. “He was a really bad fuck, though.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen a fraction. “Oh.” he says, lamely. 

“Oh.” Chan parrots, lips curling into an amused smile. He lets his head fall onto the top of the backrest, his cheek on the cool leather. He looks up at Wonwoo, through his lashes. “And I’ve been so pent up, too. Haven’t had sex in so long.”

Wonwoo is about to say something, but Chan doesn’t let him. He reaches for Wonwoo’s hand slowly, threading their fingers briefly, before leading it to his stomach and letting it rest there, over the fabric of his loose tank top. 

“I feel it in here, hyung,” he says seductively, tone low as he forces Wonwoo’s hand to press into the toned muscle, “The need.”

Wonwoo’s lungs are practically malfunctioning, his chest heaving as he struggles to form a coherent reply, his eyes flitting from Chan’s navel to his molten gaze. Chan lowers his palm from Wonwoo’s down to his wrist, wrapping his hand around it and lifting it to his face slowly. 

He makes an effort to sensually drag it up his sternum, the swell of his chest, up to his face where he nuzzles into it with a content sigh. It’s good he wore the tightest tank top he owns, he can feel Wonwoo’s touch perfectly through the light fabric. Wonwoo’s palm stills on his cheek, soft as Chan twists his head to press a singular, featherlight kiss into the wrist. 

Wonwoo isn’t breathing, shivering at the scorching feeling of Chan’s lips on his skin, the point of contact burning him alive. The sleepiness has all but worn off from his gaze, a different quality manifesting in the depth of his irises. 

Chan fixes his eyes on him, predatorial, a lilt in his voice as he calls out. “Wonwoo-hyung.”

“Yes?” he replies almost immediately, eager just the way Chan likes it. His eyes already look glazed over, the dim light from the kitchen hitting the back of his head, spilling over his shoulders and casting a veil-like shadow. 

Chan smiles, his eyes sharp. “Can I suck you off?”

“Chan-ah.” Wonwoo groans out lamely, sounding pained, his hand flying up from Chan’s stomach to rest on his face, embarrassed. “I’ve never— I’m— I’ve never done this before.” he says, meekly, tone muffled by his hand.

“I don’t care.” Chan shoots back truthfully, interrupting Wonwoo’s spiral before it even can begin. “Do you?” he asks, and waits for the reply, not moving as he does, eyes focused.

“No,” Wonwoo mumbles out, after a brief silence. He gulps, his eyes on Chan’s face, tentative. “But I want it— I want to be good for you.”

The way Wonwoo looks at him, so sincere and bright-eyed, tone colored by an innocence that Chan hasn’t heard from his partners in years, has him closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax. 

He wants to ruin Wonwoo for everybody else. Wants to fuck him until he can’t walk and then some more. It’s intoxicating. Chan doesn’t remember the last time he was this close to losing his cool, or this eager to top. 

He opens his eyes slowly, blinking at Wonwoo languidly. “Just relax, hyung,” he says, making an effort to press another kiss into the pulse point on Wonwoo’s wrist, “We’ll take it one step at a time, yeah?”

Wonwoo’s breath hitches again as Chan alternates between sucking and nipping the thin, milky skin. “But— but what if I come too quick?”

“Then I’ll make you come again,” Chan says simply, lowering Wonwoo’s hand and crawling over to his lap on all fours, his back arching in a way that’s practiced, “And again. Until you learn how to hold it."

The implication has Wonwoo shivering under him, as Chan climbs into his lap, the tent in Wonwoo’s pants catching his eye. He flits his gaze back up to Wonwoo’s face, choosing not to comment on his eagerness immediately, finding a different subject of interest.

Chan quirks a brow, a delighted smile making way to his face as he wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s neck. “You like that, hm? Me teaching you?” He tries for casual, as he pulls his hand back to brush some hair from Wonwoo’s face softly, humming in satisfaction when he places it behind his hair successfully. 

He ignores the crimson blush forming on Wonwoo’s face, and continues.

“Want me to teach you how to fuck me, too?” Wonwoo groans in reply, bucking his hips up slightly, thwarted by Chan’s weight on his lap. “Or, do you want me to teach you how to get fucked? How to take me?"

“Both.” his reply is instantaneous, eager, endlessly enticed by the images Chan is putting in his head. Wonwoo’s hands tremble as he holds him, the sight coaxing out a dangerous type of hunger in the depth of Chan's core as he wriggles in his lap.

“My sweet, earnest hyung.” he says condescendingly, smiling softly. “So honest, even when you don’t know what you’re asking for.” 

His smile falls just as quickly as it formed. “Wonwoo. You shouldn’t agree to things so easily,” Chan warns, voice low, his eyes sharpening. “I’ll eat you alive.”

Wonwoo’s breathing is shallow, Chan’s change in tone giving him instantaneous whiplash. He analyzes Wonwoo’s appearance, his eyes flitting over his form almost imperceptibly. He’s not tense, and his grip on Chan’s waist has tightened, if anything. Frankly, it doesn’t look like he’s scared.

Huh. Chan is surprised. So, he can push Wonwoo quite far, it seems. Interesting.

“Wonwoo-hyung. Have you ever kissed anyone?” 

“Y-yes,” he answers after a few beats of silence, overwhelmed by the intensity of Chan’s attention on him, “It was, um, a while ago.” Chan hums in reply, shifting on Wonwoo’s lap. 

“Was it something like this?” he questions, pressing a soft peck to Wonwoo’s mouth, barely there. Wonwoo gasps into it, his eyes widening a fraction like he didn't expect it. Chan detaches almost immediately, his lips in a pout as he acts like he’s thinking about it, ignoring the way Wonwoo almost unconsciously chases his mouth.

“Or, like this?” he asks, leaning in and locking their lips languidly, and twisting his hands in Wonwoo’s hair sensually. Chan nibbles on his lower lip, forcing a strangled gasp out of Wonwoo, his hands flying up to land on Chan’s waist. 

He separates from the kiss for less than a second, feeling a magnetic pull to Wonwoo’s lips, and finds himself leaning back in just as quickly. There’s something addictive about the sounds Wonwoo makes, throaty, raspy groans, desperate in a way that has Chan wanting to pull more from him.

“Maybe, it was like this?” Chan murmurs, close to Wonwoo’s mouth before pulling on Wonwoo’s hair harshly and startling a gasp out of him, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into Wonwoo’s slack mouth, licking at the seam vigorously and finally kissing him as deeply as he’s been wanting to.

He presses his body closer to Wonwoo’s, not giving him any chance to breathe, or think about anything else other than Chan’s mouth on his, Chan’s hands in his hair. Wonwoo is a moaning, whining mess, expelling harsh pants into Chan’s mouth, as he squirms under the steady grind Chan started halfway into the kiss, his erection filling up in his sleep pants nicely. 

He leans back from their lip lock, lowering his hands to rest on Wonwoo’s chest, letting his nails dig into the thin fabric, a light, lingering stinging sensation on his skin. Wonwoo looks incapable of any thought, his glasses crooked on his nose bridge stupidly. Chan finds that he likes him like this.

Squirming, trembling, unable to regain his footing. It’s enticing, in a way that has Chan’s dick kicking in interest.  

“Hyung. Answer me.” he orders, suddenly feeling way too eager to hear the answer. “Has anyone ever kissed you like that?”

Wonwoo licks his red, bitten lips, his glassy eyes fixated on Chan’s as he replies politely. “N–no. Never.”

Chan hums, his eyes softening, voice silky smooth as he smiles. “Good.” He takes Wonwoo’s glasses off gently, and instead of putting them away, decides to take a more interesting approach.

He sets them down carefully on the lowest point of his nose bridge, so that he’s not looking directly through the lenses, treating the frame like a statement piece. Chan bats his eyelashes, delighted by Wonwoo’s awed expression, and pokes the tip of his tongue through his teeth teasingly.

“Do I look pretty, Wonwoo-yah?” Chan muses, tone low, as he threads his fingers through Wonwoo’s locks gently. He brings his lips closer to Wonwoo’s ear, lowering his voice to a whisper. 

“Like a real teacher, hm?” Chan murmurs enticingly, lips brushing Wonwoo’s flushed earlobe.

“Ah, Jungchan.” is all Wonwoo can say at first, a pathetic drawl of his name, his voice hoarse as his grip on Chan’s waist tightens deliciously, squeezing at the flesh over the flimsy fabric of his tank top. He swallows roughly, and nods. “Yeah— ‘s really pretty.” 

Chan finds himself wanting Wonwoo’s hands on his skin immediately, so he makes haste of removing the offensive piece of fabric quickly, careful not to disrupt the glasses resting on his nose. Wonwoo whines pitifully when his eyes land on Chan’s bare skin, his palms flying back to their previous place as quickly as they left it.

He closes his eyes and moans at the feeling of Wonwoo’s cold hands on his hips, shuddering as the sensation shoots straight to his core. His hips twitch, a tell-tale sign of his control slipping, his grip on the reigns faltering as Wonwoo grips the flesh roughly. 

Wonwoo isn’t faring any better, his eyes completely fucked out, like Chan has taken him five times over already, just from a little kissing. Chan wants to see what else he can do, what other noises he can coax out of him, all the myriad of expressions Wonwoo is capable of. 

He’s getting greedy so fast, his want slowly overpowering his rationale, in a way that's giving him serious whiplash. He wants to take things from Wonwoo that he’s not sure Wonwoo can even give.

“Says you, hyung.” Chan says suddenly, on a crazed laugh, startling a soft gasp out of Wonwoo. “So pretty, so handsome for me. So good for your Channie, the best.” he adds, meaning it, pressing a finger into Wonwoo's mouth. 

Wonwoo’s eyes are rounded, his eyes glassy as he blushes from the highs of his cheekbones, to the tips of his ears. His neck is tinged a sweet pink, all the way down to his protruding collarbones. “I’m good?” he asks, his voice airy and muffled around Chan's finger.

Pretty, pretty, pretty. Chan wants to wrap a pink bow around him and tuck him in his pocket. 

“Good enough to eat, baby.” Chan says, his answering smile wicked as he takes his finger out.

The pet name seems to do it for Wonwoo, as he moans unabashedly, his head lolling back to rest on the back of the couch. He screws his eyes shut, like he’s trying to get a grip, but Chan doesn’t let him. He has a theory to test out.

Chan leans forward slowly, following Wonwoo’s trajectory, and nips at his jaw tantalizingly, licking to soothe the sting. He smiles wickedly into Wonwoo’s extended neck, and decides to get talkative. He presses a wet kiss right under his chin, grazing his teeth along Wonwoo’s adam’s apple.

“My sweet hyung.” he praises, after sucking a wet hickey into the skin. “Just relax and let me do all the work, yeah? I’ll make you feel good.” He starts a practiced grind again, putting his dancer hips to good use, rubbing on Wonwoo’s clothed dick deliciously. 

Wonwoo’s hands grip the flesh of Chan’s hips in an attempt to stop him— probably overwhelmed by his own arousal— but Chan tuts, reprimanding, the harsh sound forcing Wonwoo’s eyes to fly open. 

“None of that. Keep your hands above your head.” Chan orders sharply. “Wanna make you come like this, so be nice, yeah?”

Wonwoo obeys, albeit reluctantly, as he blushes a deeper shade of crimson, the concoction of embarrassment and arousal at Chan’s scolding and his own obedience spreading the flush down his chest like a wildfire. 

Chan sucks another hickey into the milky skin, his hips grinding into Wonwoo’s at a leisurely pace. He wants to take his time, do anything in his power to make sure Wonwoo never forgets this. He finds himself getting addicted to Wonwoo’s taste, the way he reacts to Chan’s touch, the way his hands tremble from where they’re obediently situated above his head. 

He listens so well, so sweetly, so pliant under Chan’s skilled hands and mouth. He sucks at the expanse of skin, moaning into it at a particularly pointed buck, and finally finds himself acting on a whim and unbuttoning a few more buttons of Wonwoo’s sleep shirt in a frenzy, wanting, needing, to get his teeth on the thin skin covering his collarbones. 

It’s uncharacteristic, this frantic desire, the uncoordinated movement, but Chan can’t contain himself, as he uses his strength to rip the shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, not even apologetic as he instantly gets his mouth on the patch of skin he’s been dreaming of. Wonwoo's moan is borderline pornographic as Chan suckles at his collarbones, nipping at the flesh and leaving a myriad of marks in his wake. 

Wonwoo is squirming underneath him, his grip on Chan's waist tightening deliciously as Wonwoo lets him have his fill. It seems Chan can be right about Wonwoo, sometimes.

He sighs giddily into the skin, his breath stuttering, eliciting a shudder from Wonwoo as he nuzzles into the blooms of red and purple already marring his collarbones. “You bruise so easily, hyung. It’s so cute,” he says, catching himself on the verge of a squeal, “I could just eat you up. Keep you all to myself.”

Chan doesn’t get to be surprised by his own possessiveness, because Wonwoo’s answering whine is so enticing it has him searching his brain for something else to say, something even more debauched, anything to get Wonwoo to make that sound again. “Oh.” he says, smiling wickedly. “Hyung likes that?”

In a moment of startling lucidity, Wonwoo licks his dry lips and stutters out an answer. “I— I’d like anything you did to me.” Chan’s hips lose their rhythm for a second, as his gaze lands on Wonwoo’s, eyes round in surprise at the outburst of sincerity. 

He searches for deceit uselessly━ all he finds is truth. Traces of devotion Chan didn’t even know was there, but is surprisingly okay with. He’s not sure its intensity is something he will ever be able to reciprocate, or even fathom, but he has an inkling of a clue on how to deal with it in the most appropriate way, right now.

Chan’s answer comes in the form of a passionate kiss, all tongue and teeth, his desire sharpening abruptly, not devotion, but something more wicked, innately compensatory in its franticness. 

Chan can’t do longing, reverence, but he can do fervor, impulse, sinking his teeth into what he wants, biting until skin breaks and the blood trickles out. He finds that Wonwoo doesn’t seem to mind, as he kisses back to the best of his abilities, his moans increasing in volume.

He’s growing warmer under Chan’s ministrations, his skin splotchy red as he expels puffs of air, and in a moment of complete insanity, Chan finds himself wrapping one hand around Wonwoo’s neck, pressing his fingers lightly over his pulse point. Not too hard, just a steady pressure to turn his eyesight fuzzy.

Wonwoo’s head lolls back as much as it can with Chan’s hand on his neck, his hips bucking up on their own accord, stuttery, barely-there thrusts, his eyes unfocused as he whines high in his throat. “Holy shit,” Chan exclaims, on a crazed laugh, “Are you going to come? Seriously?”

He redoubles his efforts, almost knocking the glasses off of his face from the intensity of his own grinding, undulating his hips, as he brings Wonwoo’s ear closer to his lips, biting at the flushed lobe. “My cute, sweet hyung. Getting all worked up from a little heavy petting,” he murmurs tenderly into Wonwoo’s ear, “Wonder what you’ll look like when I fuck you. Won’t last even a minute.”

At that moment, as the words leave Chan’s mouth, Wonwoo’s hips buck up frantically and then still, as he brings his hands to his face and groans into his open palms, like he’s embarrassed by the orgasm overtaking him. Chan is practically panting as he detaches his hand from Wonwoo’s throat, his mouth open in surprise, salivating at the sight in front of him.

Wonwoo is a twitchy, shaky thing below Chan, as he tries taking deep breaths to calm himself to no avail, the puffs of air stuttery and hiccup-y, the sound of it muffled by the hands on his face. Chan has to rest his head in the crook of Wonwoo’s neck, to collect himself lest he does something impulsive once again, faced with Wonwoo’s delicious vulnerability.

He feels it again, growing even stronger, the need in his gut. That expression Wonwoo is wearing, looking like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, with the pleasure he’s feeling, with Chan’s weight in his lap. Chan wants to show him everything, wants to corrupt him beyond belief, wants Wonwoo to corrupt him in turn by indulging him, by letting Chan do whatever he wants and more.

It’s funny, how he teased Wonwoo for coming just from this, as if Chan isn’t just as close only from the sheer amount of possibilities running through his debauched mind. 

He doesn’t know much, right now, his head a mess, but he’s certain of one thing. He’s not done.

He presses a kiss into Wonwoo’s neck, light, in an attempt to soothe his nerves. Chan slinks off his lap, and gets on the floor in front of him, batting his eyelashes above the frames like before and leaning his head on Wonwoo’s thigh with a woeful sigh.

“Hyung.” he whines out, low-pitched and pouty. “I didn’t get to suck you off.”

From this position, Chan can see the way Wonwoo’s chest quickly rises and falls, as he watches Chan. He looks completely fucked out, his neck ravaged, blooms of purple and red adorning the skin, bite marks on his collarbones and his sleep-shirt ripped open. Chan’s carefully maintained facade breaks, the clarity returning for a fraction of a second, as he surveys his work from the floor.

Chan blinks. Okay, maybe he could’ve calmed down, at least a little bit. How is Wonwoo going to explain any of those marks to Mingyu and Seungkwan in the morning? He looks like he got attacked in an alleyway by a pack of stray dogs.

“Think you can get it up again?” he asks, deciding to ignore his previous train of thought. It’s really no concern of his how Wonwoo decides to justify this. It’s just something they’ll have to get used to.

Wonwoo flushes, and after a beat of silence, nods. Chan has to take a deep breath. Wonwoo really shouldn’t have told him that. Should've lied and said no.

“Chan-ah?” Wonwoo calls out, suddenly, his voice rough.

“Yes?” 

“Can I have my glasses back?” he asks, shyly, his hands folded politely in his lap. “It’s just— I can’t see you, and, I want to— I want to see you, while you, you know.” Cute, cute, cute. How this man, who looks like he can throw Chan around like he’s a feather, could be so cute is above his comprehension.

Chan smiles, tracing circles around Wonwoo’s knee. “I don’t know. While I what?”

Wonwoo gulps, and shifts his upper body. “While you suck my dick.” Chan’s answering grin is one of sheer delight, as he bites on his lower lip and nods his head.

“Good boy.” he praises, and straightens up, raising his head from Wonwoo’s knee. He takes the glasses off, and beckons Wonwoo to lean his face down. “Come.”

Wonwoo almost bumps their heads together with how quickly he listens to Chan, bending his body in half to lean closer. Chan places the glasses on his face, adjusting them so they sit properly, before leaving a chaste kiss on Wonwoo’s mouth. 

It’s supposed to be just a peck, but he finds himself getting lost in it nonetheless, moaning when Wonwoo takes initiative and slips his tongue into Chan’s mouth, sighing into the kiss as Wonwoo maps out the inside of it. Chan finds himself threading his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair, sliding his palms down to his nape, scratching at the skin in a way he previously ascertained Wonwoo likes. 

He has to break it off when Wonwoo gets his hands on Chan’s waist, like he’s about to haul him up into his lap again, like he can’t get enough of kissing Chan. Chan pants as he detaches his lips from Wonwoo’s, forcing him to fall back down on the couch by pushing his chest. 

Wonwoo is getting confident quickly, brazenness that could rival his own, in a way Chan didn’t predict would happen. Again, he’s found himself on the precipice of yet another wrong assumption. Even this close to Wonwoo, as the sole recipient of his heated gaze, Chan finds that he can’t understand him. 

Instead of thinking about it some more, Chan decides to get on with it. He nuzzles his cheek into Wonwoo’s knee as he eyes the wet spot on his sleeping pants. “You made such a mess.” he says, through a sigh. “You’re so easy, hyung.”

“Only for you.” Wonwoo says back, not missing a beat, his breath escaping him as he speaks. Chan quirks a brow, surprised Wonwoo could manage a reply. Forget the confidence, that mouth is going to be a bigger issue. 

Chan hums. “Cute.” he muses, slightly sarcastic, as his eyes catch the outline of Wonwoo’s slowly fattening erection. Chan spreads Wonwoo’s legs and gets in between them, pawing at his crotch through the thin, soiled fabric, feather-light touches over his sensitive dick. 

Wonwoo’s breath hitches at the sensation, a strangled half-moan, half-gasp leaving his throat as he bucks his hips up towards Chan’s touch. So sensitive. Chan tuts, and pinches the expanse of skin peeking below the hem of his sleep shirt in punishment.

“Stay still.” Chan orders, eyes sharpening, and warns. “I won’t tell you twice.”

Chan motions for Wonwoo to slide his pants down, along with his underwear, tugging at the offending pieces of clothing petulantly. “C’mon, off,” he says, and confesses, “Want it now.”

Wonwoo nods his head so quickly that Chan is worried he’ll give himself a concussion, sliding his pants and underwear down enough to take his dick out. Chan has to lean his head back on Wonwoo’s knee, to take a breather once his eyes land on the girth of it.

Wonwoo is big. Longer than he is thick, tinged a sweet red at the head, messy and wet from coming once already. Wonwoo’s dick twitches as Chan looks at it, and he finds himself having to stifle a chuckle at Wonwoo’s eagerness. So, so cute. 

He presses a kiss to Wonwoo’s knee and shuffles in between his open thighs again, licking his lips, overly excited at the prospect of finally sucking Wonwoo off. He bats his eyelashes at Wonwoo, and decides to play with him some more.

“Here are some ground rules.” he says, intentionally moving closer to Wonwoo’s erection. “Be still,” Chan reminds, nuzzling into his dick enticingly, “No touching,” he orders, pressing a kiss at the head of it, startling a moan out of Wonwoo. “And most importantly— you cum only when I let you.” 

Wonwoo is shaking under him, his thighs straining from the untapped power in them, struggling between being good and taking what he wants. Chan doesn’t think he’ll last long enough for him to actually play properly, but he’ll take what he can get.

He flits his eyes up to look at Wonwoo, a reaction to his body getting slightly jostled by sudden movement, his breath hitching when he notices Wonwoo taking his ripped sleep shirt off in a frenzy. Wonwoo leans back when he successfully pulls it off, still panting, his hands flexing and unflexing next to his body as he tries his best not to touch Chan.

His eyes are closed as he collects himself, so Chan takes this as an opportunity to let his gaze wander. Wonwoo’s biceps have filled out recently, from incessantly being dragged to the gym by Mingyu, his chest swelling deliciously. Practically all he does is chest and arms, but Chan can't complain, since he would be lying if he said he hasn’t fantasized about biting into the softness of his stomach. 

Chan quirks his brow in question once Wonwoo settles, his lips curling in a way he knows is pretty. Wonwoo picks up on it fairly quickly, his cheeks tinged a sweet red. “I got hot.”

“You got hot?” Chan can’t help but ask, his eyes widening,  genuinely shocked at the admission. Wonwoo, who gets cold when it’s twenty degrees out, has the capability to get hot?

“Yeah.” he nods, a small, sincere smile on his face. “It’s just— You’re making me nervous.” 

Chan’s answering smile is so delighted, the giddiness in his chest practically transparent on his face. "Cute. So cute." he mumbles out for what has to be the hundredth time, and means it.

He warmed Jeon Wonwoo up enough for him to take his shirt off. Mingyu and Seungkwan will never believe him. This revelation has him wanting to run his mouth, get something else out of Wonwoo, see how far he can push his honesty.

“Wonwoo-hyung.” he mewls out, as he strokes his erection lightly, pumping him to full hardness. “I’m curious. Have you ever had any fantasies about your first time?”

Wonwoo startles, his blush spreading down to his chest, practically unnoticeable on his marred neck until it ran down to the flat plains beneath his collarbones. Chan tracks it with his eyes, his attention shifting for a second, and looks back up at his face.

Wonwoo’s gaze is everywhere but on Chan, persistent in his silence. Chan is getting impatient though, so with a sigh, he gets to work. He licks at the tip first, dipping his tongue into the slit, sucking at the crown and moaning once the bitter taste of precum hits his tastebuds. 

Wonwoo is moaning, his core muscles straining from how hard he’s trying to stay still, as Chan focuses all his attention on the head. Chan’s eyes basically roll to the back of his head at the feeling of Wonwoo, heavy in his mouth, putting in immense effort to listen, to be good and follow his directives.

He licks down to his base, sucking a ballsack into his mouth, startling a gasp out of Wonwoo, before leaving a trail of wet kisses up his length and suckling at the tip once again. Chan is taking his time, enjoying how reactive he is, relishing in the throaty groans he lets out, affected by Chan’s skilled mouth.

Chan gets more eager, taking the entire length of him down his throat in an effort to bring Wonwoo to the edge. “Jungchan— ah— Channie, I’m— fuck,” he says, struggling to form a single sentence, the expletive rolling down his tongue like sin, startling a moan out of Chan, “I’m g’na cum—” 

Chan blinks up at him, humming around his length, the vibration bringing Wonwoo even closer to the edge. Just as Chan ascertains that the coil in Wonwoo’s core is about to snap— he pulls off. Wonwoo’s answering whine is high in pitch, muffled by his hand on his mouth, as he screws his eyes shut, the pleasure taken away from him in an instant.

He’s trembling, his cock kicking weakly, leaking spurts of pre-cum, the tip of it a fiery red. Wet eyes blink down at Chan as Wonwoo removes the hands off his face, his breathing shallow like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “I’m sorry— I’m sorry please—”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Chan sing-songs, cutting Wonwoo off, his eyes sharp. Wonwoo’s eyebrows are drawn together, his eyes hazy, as he tries to understand what Chan is talking about. 

He’s trying really hard, the poor thing, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, his gaze searching frantically across Chan’s face for the answer. Chan sighs, and shakes his head in mock-exasperation.

“What am I going to do with you, hyung?” Chan asks no one in particular, woeful. “Can’t even recall a simple question,” he says condescendingly, his voice deceivingly soft, “Got a mouth on your dick and stopped caring about your Channie—”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

Chan startles from where he’s on the ground, his train of thought having escaped him fully, a crack in his sensual facade. Wonwoo looks equally as surprised by his own words, his sincerity and earnestness getting the best of him even in such a debauched state.

“You asked me if I had any fantasies about my first time,” he says, still breathless, “I do.” There’s a certain quality to his gaze Chan can’t ascertain, but he’s used to this. 

Uncertainty— the feeling of not knowing— when it comes to Wonwoo, is second nature to him. 

“Yeah?” Chan finds himself asking, having quickly recovered from his surprise, the facade salvaged. He always jumps back on his feet quickly. His lips curl, eyes sharpening as he regains control. “Tell me.” Wonwoo licks his lips, and clears his throat. 

“I’ve always— ah,” he tries to start, but he cuts himself off with a moan as Chan presses a kiss to his cockhead again, the same start as before, dipping his tongue into the slit and moaning at the taste, just as happy to be on his knees for Wonwoo as he was the first time around. 

“Talk.” he says, after detaching for no longer than a second, just to get the order out. Wonwoo nods, so polite as he listens and wills himself to try again. He must be so sensitive now, so Chan tries his best to drag it out as much as possible.

“I’ve always thought about— about you.” he says, and Chan can’t say he’s surprised. Chan is the only person he knows about that Wonwoo has ever been attracted to. Or at least, admitted being attracted to. He hums around Wonwoo’s length, rewarding him by taking him down his throat and bobbing his head. 

Chan slides off of him slowly, letting the length rest on his tongue, licking at the head again before pulling off entirely. He presses another chaste kiss to the tip in a way he knows is pretty, and speaks, suckling between every word. “And? What do we do?”

“You suck me off— hnng— just like this,” he says, earnest, his hand landing on Chan’s head as he twists his wrist just the way he thought Wonwoo would like it, threading his fingers into Chan’s hair. 

Chan would reprimand him, but he’s also horribly selfish, and the way Wonwoo is gently gripping onto his locks feels good, so he lets it slide. He’s interested in what Wonwoo has to say, anyway. Chan is about to urge him to continue, but he doesn’t have to, because Wonwoo continues of his own volition.

“And then I fuck you— or, fuck— you fuck me,” he says, like it doesn’t matter, but with the way he gets breathless as the sentence advances, Chan would say he’s leaning towards the second option more. “It really doesn’t matter— ah— what we do. It just has to be with you.” 

Chan’s eyes narrow— Dangerous. That’s a dangerous thing to say to him, so honestly, like he really means it. It opens up a variety of opportunities, possibilities, each one more debauched than the last. Chan doesn’t know how he feels about Wonwoo, but he certainly knows how he feels about this. 

About having Wonwoo on a silver platter, just for him to sample, to play with. Stab his fork into the meat of his abdomen, leave marks that will never fade, have Wonwoo depend on him for any and all kinds of pleasure. It’s getting his pulse rising, just from thinking about it. 

“Just with me.” Chan parrots, detaching his mouth from Wonwoo’s tip, his voice a whisper. “Only with me.” he uselessly repeats, hindbrained in a way he didn’t know he was capable of. 

“Only with you.” 

Wonwoo’s breathing is shaky, like he’s scared of his own words.

And maybe he should be. The way he says it sounds like confirmation, like permission, like everything wrapped in one. Wonwoo would let Chan do anything to him, he realizes now. It should be equally as terrifying for Chan, but it’s not. 

He’s almost eerily calm as he soaks in Wonwoo’s sinful exterior, the need and want hiding behind it unsuccessfully, liquid fire spilling through the cracks. Wonwoo will learn with time that letting Chan do whatever he wants is far from a good idea.

“Good,” he says, smiling, as he attaches his lips onto Wonwoo’s length again, “I’ll teach you everything, hyung. How to suck dick, how to fuck me— everything.” he’s overly enthusiastic as he licks messily across his head, ecstatic as he feels Wonwoo tensing beneath him again.

“You’ll never need anybody else.” Chan promises, splaying his palm out for Wonwoo to spit on. Wonwoo is too far gone to care, as he roughly takes Chan’s arm and leans forward to spit on it, his cheeks a sweet red. “Good boy, so good for me. Mine.”

Chan is equally as lost, practically babbling as he strokes Wonwoo hard and fast, licking at the cockhead as he orders, “C’mon, baby, cum—” The second the words leave Chan’s mouth, Wonwoo slaps a hand over his mouth, gnawing at the meat of it in an effort to silence himself as he orgasms. 

Chan doesn’t spill any of Wonwoo’s release, relishing in every drop, moaning as he swallows. Wonwoo is twitching beneath him, as Chan makes an effort to clean him up properly, licking and suckling at his deflating erection. He’s not saying anything, obediently waiting for Chan to finish, whining sweetly at every harsher caress of his tongue. 

Once Chan deems himself satisfied enough, he detaches and tucks Wonwoo’s dick back into his pants happily, ascertaining that everything is in order with a pat on his knee after analyzing his overall state. 

Chan opens Wonwoo’s shirt a little wider, peppering kisses along his abdomen, his sternum, the marks he left, all the way up to his jaw, leaning his weight onto Wonwoo’s thighs.  

“You know, hyung, for a virgin,” Chan starts, eyes round and bright, slumped over in Wonwoo’s lap like an overgrown puppy. “You’re quite the pervert. You play along too well.”

“’m not a pervert,” Wonwoo replies, breathless. “You just looked like you were having fun. I didn’t want to ruin it,” he elaborates, after finally catching his breath, “Especially since you didn’t get anything in return.”

Chan wraps his hands around Wonwoo’s neck. “Cute,” he coos, and tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Does this mean you’ll fuck me now? Since ‘I didn’t get anything in return’.” 

Wonwoo startles, tensing beneath Chan. “Um— I could, um, probably—” he tries, panicking as he stumbles over his words, his cheeks a vibrant red. 

“I’m kidding, hyung,” he says, chuckling, as he slaps Wonwoo across his bare chest lightly. “We’d be fucking in your room, anyway, not on the couch. That’d be— ew.”

“How is having sex on the couch ew?” Wonwoo asks, genuinely confused, his hands settling on Chan’s hips like it’s second nature. 

Chan blinks, like it’s obvious. “Mingyu and Seungkwan have probably fucked on it before. Duh.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo exclaims, mouth in an o, like he hasn’t thought about it. “That’s— ew.” He scrunches his noise as he repeats the exact thing Chan said, his lips in a pout. 

Chan stifles a laugh, finding himself endlessly endeared by Wonwoo’s expression. “Yeah.”

"It's settled then. Tomorrow though," he says, through a yawn. "I'm sleepy now."

Wonwoo tenses under him, probably in disbelief at the turn the situation took, but he says nothing as he holds wraps his hands around Chan, helping him settle in his lap appropriately,

"Yeah, tomorrow." he murmurs, trying for nonchalance, but Chan can feel Wonwoo's chest heating up again under his cheek.

Chan smiles again, against the warm skin, endeared. Cute.